


One step ahead

by Perelka_L



Category: SCP Foundation
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Religious Fanaticism, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 14:33:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12533820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perelka_L/pseuds/Perelka_L
Summary: Try to not be captured by a zealot.You never know what they may do to you, if they perceive you as everything that was ever wrong with this world.





	One step ahead

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone wondered how [this art ](https://hisclockworkservants.tumblr.com/post/163251629515/scp-foundation-fanart-ion-and-bumaro)came to be.

Ion shivered, despite the heat of the cave. At this point he resigned from trying to regenerate his body, instead forcing his glands to produce more painkillers. Anything to numb the pain that pulsated through his body. The priest's bronze feet slammed into his spine and through the hormonal haze Ion heard his spine crack.

It was better to not move anymore, he wasn't sure if he would be able to. He was too exhausted. Usually in moments of weakness he'd resort to focusing on his body, his flesh, if only the priest stopped, just for one minute, just let him rest-

He noticed how much harder his hearts were beating, his blood becoming thicker and Ion inhaled sharply. There was too much metal in his body, he couldn't move oxygen to his cells fast enough, never mind actually forcing them to anything beyond standard activity.

"Look how weak you are."

Ion felt a metal hand grasp his hair and pull. It hurt. Tear ducts worked, so Ion shut his eyes. He didn't want to give the priest the satisfaction, and he didn't have to look at him this way as well.

"If this is what the strength of the Demiurge looks like, seems like destroying it will be easier than I thought."

The voice was buzzing, unpleasant, mechanical. It grazed Ion's ears.

The priest drove the handle of his hammer through Ion's stomach and Ion felt the acid spill inside his body and onto his skin. He let out a weak whimper. He tried to blindly move one of his arms to grasp the handle but he failed, arms refusing to budge.

"Flesh is weak and filthy. Sarkic. Such is your way, of the puny and the lost."

The handle moved and Ion screamed. The bronze was plunging in and out of his weak body in some strange mockery of perverseness, handle tearing through his insides, his blood sliding on the golden surface. Ion opened his eyes, letting the tears trickle down his cheeks.

The priest was smiling, a gentle smile that didn't fit at all his empty eyes. His skin shined brightly in the weak light of the torch, as did Ion's liquids that so extensively covered the priest. A perfect mockery to the human form.

Intestines wrapped around the handle and the priest pulled, ripping the tissue with it. Ion fell down on the floor, no longer being able to support himself as numbness took over his senses again.

The priest sat next to him. Clearly the torture wasn't over.

He watched Ion for few long seconds, as if curiously. The golden hand gently traced his cheek.

"But say a word. You can always join the glory of the Machine. You will forget the suffering and the pain."

Ion didn't feel pain, at this point he didn't feel a thing. Hormones were doing their job well, numbing everything down. There was still something he could control.

The priest moved closer, his robes covering Ion's form, long steel hair framing Ion's face. The priest looked like an angel like this, white and gold so bright in the weak light. This close Ion could ignore the sight of blood, but its stench was even stronger and much more overwhelming.

"Just a word."

The priest kissed him. Steel lips covered his, a tongue was forced into his mouth. The priest's hands traced what was left of Ion's body, from stumps of his legs, to nails driven into bone, to sawed off horns and tails.

Ion bit him. He immediately regretted it, as the priest only deepened the kiss and bitter mercury filled his mouth, spilling from where the sharp fangs cut through steel tongue.

The metal hand found its way into the wound.

"You keep on resisting." The voice changed, now modulated and silent and whispered straight into Ion's ear. "When I drive that filth out of your body, I'll make you stop resisting."

Ion felt the hand move inside his body, tearing through cracked ribs and torn muscles. His body started to twitch involuntarily, his mouth started to drool. Ion finally lost control of his body and it terrified him to no end. The pain was just a dull tone in the back of the brain but his body was reacting to it, refusing to obey him anymore.

The bronze hand wrapped around his heart.

"This will be the last." Whispered the priest. His fingers gently stroked a delicate muscle. It was moving quickly, like a frightened rabbit, a pulse Ion could feel in his temples.

Ion waited for priest's hand to close into a fist.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Please don't judge me.


End file.
